“ I'm getting'too old for this shit"thought Dustin Heard as the car traveled into the Hollywood Hill. He was headed toward Nicole's mansion gamey above Los Angeles. Tanned, voluptuous Nicole arbour. That big, blond American bitch. She was goin'down. Permanently. She and all her cute little blond girlfriends.

Nicole arbour. gay woman lady. 40 years old, 5'10"tall, leggy, athletic, substantial. And stacked. Like a brick sign of the zodiac. 50E-24-38. Shoulder-length wooden-headed blonde hair. Bright red lip rouge, toenails, and fingernails. Golden tan from sunbathing in the nude painting. Neatly trimmed pussy. A real, populate Amazon queen.

Nicole had been supplying beautiful American blond to Kayleigh McEnany's escort service. A very lucrative partnership. Kayleigh had double-crossed Donald Jr and Eric. Embezzling from the Trump was a big misapprehension. Kayleigh was abruptly now. Orders from Donald Jr and Eric. Now it was Nicole's turn. Big, beautiful, blonde Nicole. She should take stuck to whoring on her own. Joining up with Kayleigh really made Donald Jr and Eric very angry. Soon Nicole would be dead meat too. And all those beautiful American blond. Too bad.

As the car moved through the hill, twisting and turning around each curve in the road, Dustin wished he were behind the roulette wheel rather than hiding on the floor in the back. He was a big guy, and it sure was cramped, but he knew the voluptuous cutie driving the car, Sir Frederick Ashton Whitty, would soon accomplish Nicole's place. She knew the way. She was one of Nicole's many lovers. And Ashton had her own set of house Florida key. Dustin would take the keys from her when they arrived. And he would take Ashton too. In his own special way.

Then he would throw a nice foresighted sojourn with Nicole.

Dustin was good at being subdued. And, in many ways, he had enjoyed this car ride through the hills. He was almost sorry it was about to end. It had been fun to separate into Ashton's car and hide in the rearward keister. And then postponement. Wait for Sir Frederick Ashton to take the air out across the parking lot and get in. Dustin had watched her leave her edifice. She was blond and leggy. Just like her boss. Only new. About 25 years old. 5'9"tall. Gorgeous facial expression. Full lips. Shimmering sorry eyes. Golden blonde hairsbreadth flowing down to her waistline. Tight eubstance. 34DD-24-36. Beautiful knocker. Alluring ass. Dressed to kill. Skintight black leather miniskirt. Matching black leather strapless halter top. knee-high Negro leather boots with 4"stiletto heels. She had a very sexy manner of walking. Real behind. With lots of nice hip action. And her nipple looked right in that leather halter top. bouncing and jiggling. She was built. Built real nice.

The odor of her alien perfume had filled the car when she got in. And she let her farsighted blonde locks fall over the headrest and into the back. Enveloping Dustin as he lay there in the dark. He played with her luxuriant hair a little bit while she drove, running his hands through it, holding it against his face, but she didn't seem to notice. She smelled sound. Real goodness. And he could see between the seats. See her long right leg stretched out under the dashboard. Moving back and Forth between the gas pedal point and bracken. Pumping the accelerator. And the bracken pedal. Leather miniskirt riding high up on her second joint. Exposing a beautiful pair of long, shapely ramification. Encased in very expensive stiletto-heeled leather boots. And she was horny. So very horny. He could tell. By the way she kept touching herself with her free hand. Squeezing her nipple through the disastrous leather halter top. Running her hired man up and down her thigh. Slipping her fingers under her short skirt to pleasure herself as she drove. Sighing. Moaning. Nice. Very nice.

Suddenly, the car slowed. And turned into a long driveway. Moving slowly, up a steep hill, towards the figurehead of a big house. It was more like a mansion. Fancy. Very fancy. Surrounded by trees. Deep in the Hollywood James Jerome Hill. It was time to take the key fruit from Ashton.

But, before he could make his movement, two shape approached from the front of the planetary house. Walking towards the car. Two cleaning lady. Both blonde and beautiful. Just like Ashton. Dustin looked them over from his hiding position in the back buns. He already knew them. Two of Nicole's bodyguards…and lovers.

The one on the right. Kaitlin Bennett. Big. She was a big missy. But in a gracious way. A very Nice way. She was in her early twenties. glamorous wench look. Wide smile. trench blue optic. Pouty, full lips painted smart cherry red red. dramatic soundbox. Busty. Leggy. 5'10"tall. 38DD-24-38. Big braless chest swinging and bouncing as she walked. Thick, wavy, platinum blonde hair. Like Marilyn Marilyn Monroe. Wearing a bright red, stretch lycra, micro minidress with a oceanic abyss V-neckline, spaghetti straps, and a plunging open back. So scant that it barely covered her tight tooshie in back and her red G-string in social movement. So nasty that it stretched around her full hips and round ass like shrink-wrap. Back seamed thigh-high silk stockings caressed her long, shapely legs. Red spike-heeled chopine stilettos surrounded her somewhat feet. A heavy orange and black gold QAnon necklace hung around her neck, falling down between her big mammilla. Kaitlin. A platinum blonde thunderbolt. Showing lots of deep cleavage. Plenty of long, curvy leg. And that perfect stave ass. Big. Tight. And hot.

And the other young lady. The one on the left wing. Lauren Southern. About 5'6 ”. 110 lbs. late twenties. Cute and curvy. Seductive baby fount. Sexy smile. Dimpled face. Big immature eyes. Honey-colored longsighted blonde hair. glossy pink lip rouge. Long golden earrings and glittering aureate watchband. A amber QAnon pendant dangling from her pierced navel. Wearing a shiny down metal micro miniskirt, matching blue metal tube top, and expensive spike-heeled shameful pump. Her high, stiff 36C tit bounced and jiggled as she yanked spread the front passenger room access, hopped in, and started talking.

"Sir Frederick Ashton. Listen Ashton. We've got a problem. Nicole. She got, you know, carried away again. With another black girlfriend. What was her public figure ? You know."Stacey Dash ”. The one we picked up the other dark at the cabaret, and brought back here. Remember ? Well, Nicole. She hated Stacey right away. Because Stacey was black. And because of her body. Stacey looked so salutary in that white leather catsuit with the zipper pulled down, and her big mammilla falling out, and her big, one shot ass stretching out the back, and those platform spike hound she had on. And, well, you know. Stacey was a real hottie. With that eubstance. And that long, thick, curly black hair hanging all the way down her vertebral column. And Kaitlin and I really wanted to do it her first. You know. Before we killed her. She was so tall and sexy. And everybody wanted her.

Nicole didn't like that. She was so jealous. And, well, Stacey got nosy, you know, about all the QAnon hooey everywhere in the mansion. And she started making prank about"Aryan blondes"and"Stupid QAnons"and shit like that. And Nicole got tangible mad as usual. Stacey got scared and tried to go forth, but we wouldn't let her. We kinda had a big fighting. You know. Then we held her down, and stripped off that sexy leather getup, and tied her up. Well, then Nicole started asking her peck of questions, and Stacey wouldn't solvent. And, well, you know, then Nicole started working her over. I mean really working her over. Especially those big, chocolate-coloured dope. And, well, we all just got deport away.

I grabbed Stacey by the throat, and Kaitlin held her metrical unit down, and her hands were tied, and she was screaming substantial loud and kicking, and all the early girls were just watching and laughing. And Nicole, well, you know, Nicole had a tongue and she just, she just kept, you know, working her over, you know, with the tongue, over and over. Slicing her up. And nobody wanted us to stop. And we did some tight things to her. You know. Really foul. We chopped off all her long, fatheaded, black hair. Nicole's gon na prevent it as a souvenir. And we stuffed her white leather thong down her throat. You should have seen it. Her eyes were bugged out like big dish ! And we put portion of different matter in her pussy just for fun ! Kaitlin kinda went testis. She really did a number on Stacey's ass with that, you know, strap-on matter. And Nicole used her big QAnon branding iron on Stacey's tits. And I strangled her with my hands. And it just seemed to go on forever. And we, you know, killed her. Now we have to get rid of the body ‘ cause it's pretty messed up. And, well, Nicole wants us to use your car. And, well, we have to do it now ‘ causal agency Nicole's having a big political party tonight. There's already a bunch of really cute American daughter here. They're all blonde and sexy ! And Nicole says we can have any 1 we want !

Nicole says she'll do something special for you if you help us. She knows how aroused you are, and how much you like French-kissing ! cum on, say"yes ”, will ya ? I'll buss you long and dumb, with peck of tongue, just the way you like it. And I'll let you do my pussycat if you want. You know how much I really have a go at it it hard in my pussy ! And did you see Kaitlin ? She's so ready for some hot action mechanism tonight. front at her in that lustrous red dress with all that beautiful Pt hair. God, she's so sexy ! She looks just like Marilyn Monroe ! And you know she likes it when you wear your leather mini ‘ cause it makes your butt looking hot ! She really wants you bad tonight. She told me so. But you punter follow out. She'll get you drunk and try to do your ass with her strap-on when you're too wasted to say no ! Just like she did with Stacey. She's a real ass bandit ! Just another crazy QAnon bitch, like Nicole. And all the rest of us ! So, Ashton, make out on. You got ta help us. We need to get rid of the black bitch now. Then we can all go back to the mansion for some fun. Okay ?"

"Sure, Lauren. I'll help you. No problem. It'll be a pleasance. I've always hated those black loose woman anyway. They're not hard and blonde and beautiful like us. ass em'! But, first you got ta present me a kiss. Kinda like a"down payment ”. Come on, Lauren, gim me some tongue. buss me near, baby. Then we'll waste-yard that black cyprian, and find some new swarthy trollop to fuck with. Someone dissimilar this time. Not another black cunt. How ‘ bout a precious little Filipina female child, or maybe a Mexican doll with nice big mamilla ! We'll bring ‘ em back here, and deal out some severe punishment and infliction. I just love it when they scream and holler ! Then we'll kill ‘ em just the likes of Stacey. Nice and slow down. They deserve it. There's too many of them around here anyway. They're everywhere ! Let's vote down a twosome tonight. I wNicole feel the rush this time too ! C'mon, child. All this talk about killing more cinnamon-colored cunt is Makin'me so hot and horny. Kiss me. snog me real good ! We'll make Kaitlin so overjealous !"

Ashton and Lauren leaned together for a abstruse French-kiss, red lipstick mixing with pink color as their wet lips came together and their tongues began a deeply and live up to exploration.

Dustin's heart began to pound. He squirmed in the back behind. He felt ready to irrupt. Tonight's assignment had suddenly changed. It had once been"business ”. Now it was"personal ”. Stacey. They had killed Stacey. These sick American blonde kick had killed Stacey. Donald Jr and Eric's"Stacey ”. Dustin's"Stacey ”. He'd been trying orbit her for Clarence Day. Now he knew why she hadn't called him back. Nicole. Nicole had killed his Stacey. Nicole would pay for this. And these three American language blonde bitches, Ashton, Lauren, and Kaitlin. They would pay too. Who would have got thought ? They were all QAnons ! Every one of them !

Suddenly, Kaitlin appeared succeeding to the car. In that red minidress. And those marvellous program cad. With all that platinum blonde falling around her human face and shoulder. And her big breast heaving up and down. She was frantic. Waving her subdivision. Pointing. Pointing into the dorsum seat. Shouting. Shouting something. What ? What was she saying ? Ashton and Lauren couldn't quite make it out."Something ”,"Someone ”,"in the back ”. What ?

"What the fucking is she talking about ? Ashton, roll the windows down ”.

Ashton hit the clitoris and all four windowpane lowered. Kaitlin was screaming.

"There's individual in the back of your car ! In the backseat ! There's a guy in the backseat of your caaaaarrrrrr ! Ahhhhhhhhh ! Nooooooo ! Let go of meeee ! Nooounnngggghhh !"

Dustin had already made his relocation. And he struck like lightening. Rising up towards the window, he reached outside, plunging his deal down the straw man of Kaitlin's low-cut red attire, way down into her thick cleavage. He grabbed one of her delectable 38DD braless mamilla with his warm aright hired hand, squeezing heavily, jerking her forward, pulling her point through the open window, before hitting the push button again. Before Kaitlin could deplumate herself back out, the window came up, closing on her slender cervix, pinning her gorgeous case and Pt blond curls inside the car while her full-bosomed body and long stocking-clad legs writhed outside. boot and squirming. Choking and gurgling. Twisting and turning. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. Kaitlin's stiletto-heeled red sandals scraped on the gravel driveway as she stumbled against the side of meat of the car. Shouting and screaming. Pushing on the tinted windowpane. Banging her fists on the glass. Gripping the window with her digit, she pushed frantically against the immovable glass with her hands, trying to break the iron suitcase that the window had on her headway and neck opening. Kaitlin's big tits spilled from the V-neck of her red minidress, flattening against the cold windowpane chicken feed. Her round, firm ass strained inside the short circuit, tight dress, big buns wiggling wildly as her struggling and squealing intensified. Her knife protruded sexily between her ruby red mouth, and her big blue eyes widened and bulged as she began to slowly throttle, her oral sex trapped in the closing window.

"One down, two to go"mentation Dustin, as he turned his attending to Ashton and Lauren. But the two blonde sister were already making their move. He could see them both. Reaching for something. Ashton's hand was in the car's glove compartment. Lauren's was in her purse. They were pulling out side arm. And turning towards the back seat. Dustin's mind began to race.

"doodly-squat, an time of day ago I thought these American bird were all just a bunch of high-class hookers. What's up with all the fucking triggerman ? And all this QAnon crap ?"

As he finished that sentiment, Dustin grabbed a smattering of Sir Frederick Ashton's mane of long blonde hair, and yanked toilsome, pulling the screaming blond out of her sitting position, and halfway back over the number one wood's seat. With her head and shoulder joint now hanging into the backseat, the voluptuous working girl continued screaming. And screaming. And screaming. Waving her gun in the air, trying to get off a snap. Big tits bursting from her halter top. Leather mini riding high gear up her firm thighs. Spike-heeled boots slamming against the steering wheel and windshield as her long leg pumped and kicked.

Dustin popped open his Italian stiletto knife, and drove the 13"blade through the rear of the driver's seat, and into Ashton's back, impaling the screaming blonde on the long stainless steel steel knife leaf blade. The blade cut through rear end material, shiny leather, diffused tegument, toned muscle and hard bone before exploding up into Ashton's big right breast, slicing upward through her succulent tit meat, punching out through her nipple and the presence of her strapless halter, leaving a erose hole in the mingy textile of the black leather top, with the bloody tongue tip poking up and out. Ashton's big down in the mouth eyes widened in mental rejection, her stare fixed on the penetrating blade protruding from her once-perfect chest. Her oral cavity fell undefendable in a noiseless wow as blood began to trickle from the corners of her big red lips. Then it began. The wild struggling. The furious flailing of weaponry. The red kicking of long, booted legs. And the noises. The squealing racket. A growing crescendo of thrashing and screaming as the spike blond tried in vain to discharge herself from the 13"blade that kept her stuck to the seat.

Just then, Lauren spun around, swinging her pistol towards the spine seat. Dustin ripped the gun from Ashton's twitching redress hand, and shoved the barrel between the bum. The concurrent holloa of two handguns filled the air with a deafening noise. Dustin felt the hot breath of Lauren's heater whizzing past his ear, and heard the shattering of methamphetamine hydrochloride behind him as the windowpane exploded.

A near young lady for Dustin, but no such luck for Lauren.

Two hot clout drilled into Lauren's jiggling right titty, while another tore through the center of her big left hand tit, obliterating her prominent set up nipple. A twenty-five percent bullet train ripped candid her middling navel, shattering the gold QAnon belly piercing, burying itself late in her loaded gut. She gasped and grunted as her body flew back, banging hard against the door, forcing it open. As rakehell squirted from the three burnt fateful holes in her shiny down in the mouth top, trickled across her sozzled tummy, and dribbled out of her pretty pinko oral cavity, she began to devolve backwards out of the orifice passenger door. Lauren's long legs splayed apart, forcing her blue metallic miniskirt up her thighs, and exposing her rhinestone-embroidered black satin thong. And a little tattoo. On the inside of her flop thigh. A QAnon. A little QAnon tattoo. Cute. Very cute.

Trying to rip herself back up, she clawed desperately at the passenger seat with her left hired man while frantically waving her side arm with the right. Trying to straighten up. She had to get off another shaft. She had to. But she was falling out of the car. And she couldn't perpetrate herself back in. The harder she struggled, the encourage her head and articulatio humeri slid out the door. Long legs now bedcover wide, Lauren's right infantry was caught under the dashboard, while her left infantry draped between the seats, spike heeled pump hanging into the back. As she fell still farther out the door, her right hand banged hard on the edge of the dashboard. Lauren lost her grasp on the gun, and it clattered to the asphalt, just edge away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin sat back, taking a endorsement to catch his breathing space. But his pinna began to ring. From all the haphazardness. Sir Frederick Ashton's shrieking combined with Lauren's groaning and Kaitlin's gurgling was starting to give him a big fat headache. Time to make a decision. Let's see.

"Eenie, Meanie, Minie, Moe, catch a QAnon gripe by the toe, if she hollers…kill her first."

Ashton. Yes, he would administer with Ashton first. It made sense. She was certainly making the most noise. Lauren was only moaning. And Lauren wasn't a threat anymore. She had lost her gun. And she was hangin'out the door. Gut injection. Tit stab. And bleeding all over that shiny blue thermionic vacuum tube top. And Kaitlin wasn't going anywhere either what with her caput being stuck in the window. And besides, she was only choking and gurgling. Ashton. Yes, Sir Frederick Ashton would be first.

Dustin watched her desperate struggling. Her hanker blonde hair hung down behind her, draping over the back seat, swinging back and forth as she writhed and squirmed. He liked the way she looked in that sexy black leather outfit. Everything was so short and tight. Her tall ignominious ear heeled boot banged and crashed against the steering wheel and car cap as she madly kicked and kicked and kicked those long, shapely wooden leg. Her tight leather mini stretched around her firm ass, sliding up and down her recollective, tone up thighs as she twisted and turned. Her gorgeous tits swelled up and out of her leather halter top, the long knife tip rising like a silver spike from the center of her immense right breast.

Then he saw it. The tattoo. A petty QAnon. Just like Lauren's. high on the interior of her left thigh. rightfield next to the blackamoor leather thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed pussycat. He wondered if Kaitlin had one too. A tattoo…and a thong…and a cunning kitty. He would ascertain out soon enough.

Dustin leaned in close, whispering in Ashton's ear as he stroked her foresighted blonde whisker with his left mitt, pawed her leather G-string with his right, and used his tongue to slowly lick the dripping ancestry from the sharp knife vane that rose out of her breast.

"I heard your friend Lauren say you like"French-kissing, long and slow down ”. You want some now ? Lem me show you my peculiar technique. You'll love it. Every now and then I use it on a beautiful girl like you. It's gon na be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for ya ’. It's a real killer. I guarantee it."

Dustin began slowly licking Ashton's red brim, then pinched her nostrils together just before placing his mouth over hers. The gifted Italian shooter locked his mouth around hers, forcing his tongue down her throat as her wild wriggling and squealing intensified. He French-kissed her deeply, plunging his tongue in and out of her mouth, rolling it beat and round as she struggled frantically for air. Her recollective whisker swung back and forth behind her as she bucked and rolled in the hindquarters, clawing at Dustin with her red-painted fingernails as he kissed her deeply…and kept her from breathing.

Dustin continued his osculation of death, keeping his oral cavity locked over Ashton's ruby-red lips, pinching her olfactory organ shut with his left hand, while using his rightfulness to explore her voluptuous writhing body. Sliding his fingertips back and forth across her compressed tum. Stroking the front of her leather mini. Reaching underneath to fondle and squeeze the battlefront of her glossy leather thong. Exploring the sugariness that lay underneath. Caressing her big, jiggling knockers. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing her magnificent knocker through the soft sexy leather of her strapless hempen necktie top. Once again, he whispered in her ear.

"O.K., babe. Get ready. Here it comes. This one's for Stacey ”.

Dustin gripped the tongue handle protruding from the seat, slowly slid the blade out, and then shoved it laborious back in. Again and again and again, he pulled the knife out and plunged it back into the seat. And into Sir Frederick Ashton. With each deep drive, more of the bally knife tip exploded up and out of her rolling and wobbling titty. Ashton shuddered and quivered, rising up in her hindquarters each fourth dimension the discriminating sword ripped a toothed new fix in her tight leather hempen necktie top. She rose up one last time, arching her backrest, tits thrust upward, centre widely, legs twitching, moaning loudly, then she fell back. Silent. Unmoving. Dead.

One down, two to go.

Dustin leaned forward. He was sweating. He kissed Sir Frederick Ashton again, thrusting his natural language deep into her wet mouth while running his hands through the retentive mane of thick blonde hair hanging to the floor of the bet on fanny. This sure was hard work. But very satisfying nonetheless. And at least it was a little quieter now. Only one girl groaning, and another fille gurgling. He would make do with Lauren side by side. He would save Kaitlin for last. She really did count just like Marilyn Monroe. He liked that. Besides, Kaitlin was the one who'd injury Stacey the most. He would do her close. And he would savor her the most. Beautiful, sexy Kaitlin. Platinum blond Kaitlin. With that skintight red wearing apparel. And those yearn, muscular legs. And those big firm tits. And that round, inviting ass.

Dustin picked up Ashton's gun again, and looked between the front man keister at Lauren, still lying on her back, falling part way out the passenger door. One leg under the dashboard below the steering wheel, the other leg thrusting between the hindquarters, her spike heeled pump almost laying in Dustin's lap. Legs spread wide of the mark. Blue micro miniskirt hiked up to her hips. Writhing. Squirming. Moaning. Gut shot. Bullets buried in big, firm tits. Shiny blue tube top stained red. But she was still live. And still trying desperately to remember her own gun. The gun that lay on the primer coat outside the car. Only inches away from her outstretched hand.

Dustin leaned between the seats, eyeing Lauren closely. Admiring her beautiful face and tight, acrobatic body. Watching her blue mini rise and decline on her luscious thigh. Big tits thrust upward. blond hair hanging out the doorway. He slid the gun barrelful up and down her retentive the right way leg, tracing the lineation of her pointy ear heel, and the curve of her shapely calf and toned thigh. Stroking the gun up and down her leg from articulatio talocruralis to crotch, rolling the bbl back and forth across her QAnon tattoo, poking and probing the front of her black satin thong with the still-smoking gun barrel. Slowly pushing the handgun up and underneath her glistening blue metallic doll, sliding it back out, and then along her thigh again. Sliding upskirt again, then back out. Over and over. Up and down. In and out. Poking, probing, exploring. While she writhed and squirmed. Stretching her arm back over her head. Trying to pick up her artillery. She was close. So close. Wiggling fingertips only inches away. She stretched. She strained.

Dustin was really beginning to admire her effort.

"You've almost got it, baby. Just try a little harder. You're almost there. Come on. Stretch it out. You're almost there. Come on. Just a little bit more. There. That's it. You've got it !"

Dustin watched her traction the gun with her in good order mitt. Trying to raise herself up. Trying to point the gun.

"I heard you tell Ashton that you really love it hard in your cunt. Well, Sir Frederick Ashton can't supporter you with that now, baby, but I can. I got something for you. Something hard for your cunt. Yeah, something hard. And hot. Real hot. Something that's gon na filling you up. Nice and trench. You know. I always aim to please, baby. I aim to delight. Sorry sweetness cheeks, but your time is up. This one's for Stacey."

Dustin leaned between Lauren's peg, sliding his gun up her thigh until it disappeared under her curt doll, rolling the barrel in ho-hum circles over the rhinestones that adorned her shining black satin thong. Then he pulled the trigger.

For an instant, an earsplitting roar echoed inside the car. Lauren grunted loudly as the hot bullet blew a boastfully hole in the shopping mall of her G-string, drilling into her, lifting her body into the air, throwing her back. With limb flailing, legs kick, and breasts jiggling, she sailed backwards out the threshold, thudding on the ground outside the car with only her long peg still inside. Lying on her back, tits up, she writhed and squirmed, rolling, twisting, turning. Her taut micro miniskirt slid down her thigh, bunching at her hip, exposing her blood-soaked lash, and perforated pussy. Shapely legs rose high in the air, kicking and kicking and kicking and kicking. Wildly. Her marvellous spike-heeled dark pump flew off her twitching ft, exposing pretty red-painted toenails and shining atomic number 79 toe rings.

Lauren arched her back, moaning, groaning, rolling her coxa from position to incline. Her battle grew weaker. She exhaled one utmost time. sassing agape. Eyes encompassing. It was over. Two down, one to go. Miss Kaitlin.

Dustin slid across the seat. Face-to-face with Kaitlin. Now bug-eyed and turning blueing, she was losing her epic fight with the windowpane that ensnared her slender neck. She needed some air. Mouth-to-mouth. Yes, that was the answer. A small mouth-to-mouth. He stroked both hired man through her thick platinum hair. He licked the tip of her bulging tongue, and tasted the cherry red tone of her red lipstick. He kissed her. Deeply. Probing her mouth with his tongue. And he let the window down. Ever so slightly. She coughed. She gasped. Sucking in mouthfuls of air as the window fell away from her neck. Giving her a little room to rest. The coloration was starting to come back into her beautiful typeface. safe. Wouldn't want her to die too soon. There was so much to a greater extent to do.

Kaitlin began to shout. Holler at Dustin. One minute she was strangling in the window, now she wouldn't shut up.

"You unintelligent bastard ! Who are you ? Who the roll in the hay are you ? You killed Ashton and Lauren ! All because of that stupid fateful bitch, Stacey ? Are you crazy ? Are you fucking crazy ? Mein Gott ! She was nothing ! Nothing ! She was a worthless black lady of pleasure ! You son of a bitch ! You'll never get away with this ! You'll never get out of here alive ! There are More of us ! Inside ! There are more of us ! We are all Aryan and impregnable ! Not like that whining black-market slut, Stacey ! We are all blonde and beautiful ! We have gas pedal and we will stop you ! We will arrive after you ! And kill you ! Nicole will kill you for this ! When I get free, I will kill you ! I'll kill you myself ! Let me go ! Let me go now ! You swine ! Let me go ! Now !"

Dustin gripped her head again, stroking his fingers through her wooden-headed Pt tomentum. He leaned in close for another oceanic abyss French-kiss. She squealed and struggled for a moment, but then relaxed as he probed her big, red back talk and warm, wet mouth with his tongue once again. Then he pulled back.

"Ssshhhh ! Ssshhhh ! silence down, will ya. You got ta learn to quiet down and relax a trivial bit, baby. I'm not letting you go. I'm gon na kill you. Then I'm gon na kill all your blonde QAnon girlfriends when they come out to see what's going on. Then I'm gon na kill Nicole Arbour. And you can't stop me. I heard your dead friend Lauren call you ‘ a really ass bandit ’. She said you ‘ really did a number on Stacey's ass ’. Stacey was my lover. Did you know that ? I guess not. What did you do to her ? I wonder. I'm gon na find out out. I'm gon na try out a few thing on you. A little experiment. You'll have to let me know if I'm on the right runway. Hold on. Excuse me for a bit. I think I hear someone at the back doorway. Your gage threshold. And a sweet back door it is. I'll meet you there in just a minute !"

Dustin exited the car and walked to the side where Kaitlin stood struggling, head through the window. He stroked his putz to full moon rigor as he watched her wriggle, squirm, call and condemnation. Kaitlin's big tits shook and wobbled inside the stiff V-neck of her low-cut frock as she frantically pushed and pulled at the window, banging her fists on the pertinacious shabu. The glossy red lycra micro minidress clung to her bosomy dead body like a second skin, dilute spaghetti strap draping across her shoulder, assailable back plunging down to the chap of her ass, skintight red lycra textile stretching around her full pelvis, barely covering her round, firm buns. Her long, lean, well-muscled legs poured from the dresses'enthusiastically hemline and into a duo of strappy red stilettos, the 5"spike heel cad clicking and clattering on the asphalt as she stumbled and staggered. Silk stockings caressed every column inch of her silken, svelte wooden leg, the foresightful, dark back seam traveling up the book binding of her calves and thighs like an erotic highway, leading to paradise.

Dustin stepped in behind her, pressing against her, pressing into her, running his custody down her nude back and over her glazed stint lycra minidress, following the curve of her hips, over her unconditional corporation, up across her chest, squeezing and squeezing her big 38DD stand, back down across her trim shank, under her dress, to her red thong, stroking, and stroking, and stroking with his bridge player, caressing her sleek stockings, running his fingertips up and down her curvy legs, squeezing her calfskin, then moving high up her thigh, to his final destination, her gorgeous ass, stroking, petting, squeezing, feeling the tightness of her big, bout buns through the tricksy lycra fabric of her skintight red dress. Dustin whispered softly in her ear as he slowly lifted the back of her tight mini…and saw the piddling QAnon tattoos on her beautiful big butt cheeks.

"Nice tattoos, fraulein. Just like your sexy, dead, QAnon bitch girlfriend. Sorry, they can't avail you. Nicole can't help you either. You're ass is mine now. Your ass is mine. Get prepare, you big, beautiful, bootylicious, blonde bitch. Here it comes. This one's for Stacey."

"No ! Noooooo ! You fucking bastard ! You can't do this ! You can't do this to me ! Wait ! Wait ! You'll never get away with this ! What are you doing ? Don't ! Don't touch me ! Get your dirty bridge player off me ! Get away ! Get away from me ! You bastard ! Don't you dare ! Don't you dare touch me ! I'll kill you ! I'll kill you ! Nicole will kill you ! She would never let anything happen to me ! I'm her devotee ! Her lover ! You can't do this ! Nicole ! Nicole ! assistant ! help oneself me ! Nicole ! Nicole ! No ! Noooooooo ! Nooooooooooooo ! Nicole ! Nicoleaaauuuuuhhhhhh ! Annnnaaaaauuuuuuhhhhhhh ! Oh mein gaauuuggghhhhtt ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh ! Annnnnnaaaaaaauuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh !

Kaitlin shrieked like a banshee, howling Nicole's epithet as Dustin mounted her big, round booty from behind, plunging his huge hammer deep into her hot, juicy ass, up to the hilt. Kaitlin's high-pitched squeals echoed inside the car as Dustin thrust hard and recondite, plowing her creamy Aryan ass for the very first time. He picked up the tread. Stroking and stroking. In and out. In and out. Faster and faster. Deeper and cryptical. Pumping her ample and buxom butt hard from behind as he pulled back on the deep gold string of her gleaming QAnon necklace, using it like reins, gripping and pulling back as he thrust hard, deep into her warm and appetizing ass, riding her like a kinky cowboy, pounding her sweet cheeks as she bucked and rolled, her psyche twisting and neck opening stretching, trapped by the shut window and strangled by her own lowering QAnon necklace. Writhing. Squirming. Thrashing. Gurgling. Squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing. And squealing.

Dustin slid his hired hand to Kaitlin's curvy hip joint and pulled her backrest. Putting his full exercising weight behind each knife thrust, he pounded her beautiful round buns with farsighted broad strokes, drilling deeper and deeper with his big, fatheaded calamus. Her gorgeous burp laughingstock wiggled and jiggled, bouncing against his genital organ as he continued his steady, deep stroking. Kaitlin's spectacular mamilla rolled and wobbled, swinging from English to side as Dustin continued his titillating onslaught, grinding his 10"cock in and out of her stringent ass like a red hot Piston. The once proud and chesty atomic number 78 blonde QAnon bombshell wailed and squealed with each powerful drive, rising up on the tiptoes of her red stiletto-heeled program sandals, curvy leg muscles tensing and tightening as Dustin rhythmically buried his Brobdingnagian tool up to the hilt in her delicious ass. Harder and harder. Faster and faster. Deeper and cryptic. solidus after virgule after stroke after stroke after throw after stroke after stroke.

Dustin was almost there. He could experience it. Rising up like a volcano. gear up to erupt. He pumped her hard. Harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. As he exploded into Kaitlin's exquisite ass, Dustin heard her neck whirl. She shuddered and jerked, twitching wildly, groaning loudly one last meter, then went limp. Still hanging from the window. blazon at her sides. Huge 38DDs pressed flat against the side of the car. Platinum blonde hair spilling around her gorgeous face. Eyes bulging. tongue poking out between her glossy red backtalk. Stocking-clad ramification splayed out across the cold asphalt. Red lycra minidress hiked above her ass. Tiny red G-string wrapped around her ankles.

Dustin had to displace fast now. He needed to find Nicole. But it wouldn't be easy. There were more of these softheaded blonde QAnon bitches inside the sign. He would probably take in to kill them all to get to Nicole. power as well start now.

Dustin rolled the car window down once more, gripped Kaitlin by her scrumptious second joint, and hoisted her sonsy body through the hatchway, part way into the rear. She hung there with her upper berth body inside the car, neck stretched, head word bent awkwardly, platinum blonde hair spreading in waves across the backseat, her upturned ass, long wooden leg, and red spike bounder still dangling out the window, rivulets of hot cum dripping down the backs of her shapely thighs and calf, staining her silk stockings. Dustin pulled off the sexy G-string dangling from Kaitlin's ankle, rubbed the red panties slowly up and down the rear of her cum-stained legs, then held the G-string to his boldness, savoring the erotic fragrance of his own cum mix together with her hot sweat and the expensive trunk lotion she'd applied only an hour before her expiry. He pushed the embarrassing G-string yesteryear Kaitlin's big, red rim and into her sensuous sassing, using his fingertips to push the sexy red panties deep down her throat.

Dustin moved over to Lauren. He slid his work force around her slender articulatio talocruralis, pulling her into the car, and laying her pretty substructure and red-painted toes across Ashton's naked thigh, leaving only her big breast, beautiful staring cheek, and long blonde hair dangling out the doorway. He slid Lauren's Shirley Temple satin thong past her toned thigh, sonsie calves, and pretty manicured toenails, then held it to his typeface, inhaling the erotic scent of her fond blood amalgamate with the expensive perfume she'd sprayed on her pussy just 30 transactions before. Kneeling down, Dustin shoved the blood-and-perfume-drenched scanty past Lauren's pink sassing and into her gaping oral cavity, using his fingers to pressure the Joseph Black satin lash deep down her throat.

Ashton was fine where she was. Bent back over the driver's seat. Impaled on Dustin's switchblade knife. Tits up. Long hair hanging into the back. Booted leg draped over the steering bicycle. Leather mini bunched around her hips. Dustin pulled the flick-knife from the seat back, using Sir Frederick Ashton's long mane of thick, golden pilus to wipe the blade clean. He pulled the knife down across her bureau, slicing her halter top in half to queer her two magnificent 34DD titty, then carved down through soft leather and toned thigh to sever the side strings of her sexy melanize leather thong. Gripping the shiny black Triangle covering her cunt, he pulled up, tearing the scanty off her cooling system body. Dustin held it heights, like a prize, admiring the sheeny smuggled leather, and breathing in the erotic aroma of soft leather soaked and stained with the piddle of a avowedly Aryan bitch. Dustin wouldn't stuff these panty down Sir Frederick Ashton's pharynx. He would keep on them for himself.

Dustin could get wind randomness now. They were coming. The other blondes from the mansion. Coming outside. He would be waiting for them. And he would carry on with them all. One after another. Then he would find their leader. dame Nicole.

And the real fun would start .